


The Light of Harrenhal

by lyrawinter



Series: The Lord of Harrenhal [3]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, F/M, Gothic Romance, Mentions of the Underworld inspired by Greek Mythology, Spooky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 08:42:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29556513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyrawinter/pseuds/lyrawinter
Summary: She could almost feel the snowflakes melting on her cheeks and hair, and the cold air caressing her face and softly blowing up her cloak, as if the god of winter were whistling a song.
Relationships: Petyr Baelish/Sansa Stark
Series: The Lord of Harrenhal [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2025607
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The next few months will be busy, but I managed to revise this part, so I thought I'd share it. I love this fandom so much. I hope you all are doing well <3
> 
> English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes. Thanks for reading! 
> 
> Soundtrack:
> 
> _Freaking Love_ by Flora Cash
> 
> _For Someone_ by Flora Cash
> 
> _Suspicion_ by Sherwood Roberts

“Well, here we are,” Lord Baelish announced when they stopped in front of the stables.

Sansa looked up at the roof, painted in red. She hadn’t expected the building to be so big, even though she knew that there must be at least one horse for every guard, aside from Lord Baelish’s.  
The outside door was open. She peeked in and saw many individual stalls inside. The smell of hay and wood hit her nose, and for a moment she felt as if she’d gone back in time. She could almost feel the snowflakes melting on her cheeks and hair, and the cold air caressing her face and softly blowing up her cloak, as if the god of winter were whistling a song.

The air moved around them at this very moment, and Sansa thought she’d heard something behind her, like a faint melody, but she didn’t have time to think about it. Beside her, Lord Baelish’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Shall we?” His voice sounded soft.

She turned to him and nodded. He was looking at her intently, and Sansa knew he’d guessed that she was thinking of Winterfell. She offered him a reassuring smile and crossed the threshold. He followed her without a word.

The light streamed through the open panels on the top of the stalls. Some horses turned their heads to them, but most of them continued eating or looking outside.

Lord Baelish chuckled.

“If we were William and Paul, they’d have been thrilled to see us. They let them outside when it isn’t raining or snowing,” he explained. “And they also feed them.”

“I see.” Sansa smiled.

“Don’t worry,” he told the horses. “Paul and William will come soon.”

The horses didn’t pay him any mind. Sansa laughed, and Lord Baelish let out a long sigh as if he were used to being ignored by them. However, his eyes shimmered, and Sansa could tell he was happy that he'd made her laugh.

He motioned to the back of the stables. “Come with me. I want to introduce someone to you.”

Sansa followed him down the aisle, watching the horses as she walked past the stalls.

Lord Baelish stopped next to a tall ginger horse. He rubbed the horse on the neck.

“I bought it last winter from a breeding farm in the North,” he told Sansa. “He’s one of the most clever animals I’ve ever seen, and he’s also quite playful.” The corner of his mouth turned up as he spoke. “Last winter there was a heavy snowfall in Harrenhal, and we had to keep the horses inside for several days. When we finally let them out, most of the animals didn’t seem very happy to see the fields covered in snow. Some of them even refused to go outside, but this one… this one was rolling around in the snow and galloping before we realized. He looked like an overly excited kid.” Lord Baelish chuckled and lowered his arm, turning to Sansa. He flashed her an encouraging smile. “Go on, he’s waiting for you to pet him.”

Sansa took a step forward and extended her arm. Her cloak brushed against Lord Baelish’s as she did so, and she tried to ignore the shiver that ran up her spine.

“Hi,” she told the horse, touching his forehead. His fur was clean and soft. The animal stared into her eyes calmly. His eyes were hazel, with a blue tint, and Sansa felt an instant connection with him. Perhaps it was because he came from the North too. “What’s your name?”

“He hasn’t one yet,” Lord Baelish replied beside her. “I thought you’d like to name him. After all, you’re going to spend so much time with him from now on. He should associate his name with the sound of your voice.”

She turned to Lord Baelish, her heart quickening.

“Do you mean...?”

“Yes.” Lord Baelish’s smile widened. “It’s yours, sweetling.”

Sansa opened her mouth but the words stuck in her throat. Instead, her lips curved up, and she let out a breath that sounded almost like a laugh. She wanted to touch Lord Baelish’s arm in a gesture of gratitude, but she thought it would be inappropriate, so she looked back at the horse and tried to calm her heartbeat.

“Hi,” she said again. The animal met her eyes and didn’t move, as if he knew she was trying to pick a name for him. Sansa remembered what Lord Baelish had just said about him. She pictured the horse rolling around in the snow, his mane and his tail hair flapping and spreading along the snowfield, like ocean waves.

“Wintertide,” she said. The animal pressed her head to the palm of her hand. She giggled. “Is this a yes? Do you like it?” The animal tried to come closer. Sansa giggled again and patted him on the neck.

“Wintertide,” Lord Baelish repeated, a grin on his lips. “It suits him.”

*  
They left the stables after Sansa promised Wintertide that she’d come back later carrying an apple.

Lord Baelish and Sansa headed to the castle. The lake seemed to glimmer from a distance. Some trees reflected on the water, but unlike the mirrors, the water offered distorted images, and Sansa thought it almost looked as if there were another world under the lake, a world with large and twisted trees you could enter by getting in the water. If that world existed, what would the creatures who lived there think every time they looked up at the sky?

“You’re quiet,” Lord Baelish said softly.

“I was just watching the lake.” She decided to omit the rest. What would he think if he knew she had a vivid imagination?

“Ah, the lake.” A small smile crossed his lips. “That reminds me that the Night of the Old Gate is two weeks away.”

“The Night of the Old Gate?” Why did that name sound familiar to her? Sansa furrowed her brow, trying to remember.

“It’s an old legend of Harrenhal,” Lord Baelish explained. “Somewhere in Harrenhal is said to be an entrance to the Underworld, ruled by a king. The legend affirms that the king was once a mortal who lived in these lands before the castle was built, but it didn’t specify when.” He flashed Sansa a smirk. “As you know, in legends and myth, time is always unspecified.”

“I know,” she smiled.

Lord Baelish continued:

“The man was so afraid of death that he summoned the Many-Faced-God and asked him to grant him immortality. The god agreed, but told him that there was a price to pay. He couldn’t continue living in the mortal world for it would break the balance of power in the universe, so he’d have to live in the Underworld, where souls went after death. The Many-Faced-God told him to ponder his answer: he wouldn’t be completely human, and there won’t be anyone else just like him. Was he willing to risk feeling lonely for the rest of eternity?” His voice trailed off.

What would it be like to spend the rest of eternity without encountering someone just like you? Sansa wondered.

Lord Baelish was watching the lake. He seemed lost in thought. Perhaps he was wondering if he’d have dared to summon the god.

“The man agreed,” Lord Baelish finally said in a lower voice. “His fear of death was stronger than any possible doubt he could have, so he made the deal, and became the King of the Underworld.”

“Didn’t the king regret his decision?” Sansa was almost sure that Old Nan had told her and her siblings this legend when they were kids, but the details were blurred.

“He did.” Lord Baelish nodded. “However, it was too late. The deal was sealed. There was no way to break it. The Many-Faced-God had been right: the king was miserable; the company of the souls couldn’t fill his loneliness. That’s why one day, he called the god and asked him for a partner: a creature just like him; a woman turned into a supernatural queen that could rule the Underworld with him. Surprisingly, the Many-Faced-God agreed, but he told the king that his wish would be only granted when a woman fell in love with him. He could only take her to the Underworld if he kissed her and she kissed him back. _How am I supposed to achieve that if I cannot leave the Underworld?_ the king asked. The Many-Faced-God told him that he was allowed to leave his kingdom one night a year.”

“The Night of the Old Gate.”

“Exactly.” Lord Baelish tilted his head and smiled at her. “According to the legend, the king hasn’t seduced a woman yet, but he tries every year.” He straightened and adjusted his cloak. “Since I moved into the castle I’ve received many letters asking to visit Harrenhal on the Night of the Old Gate. Apparently, there was a tradition when King Harren lived here. Knights and nobles gathered around to celebrate that Night.

There was a feast, and music. The King hired the most renowned troubadours.”

“Wasn’t that a bold move?” Sansa asked. “Specially for the women. They were exposing themselves to draw the King of the Underworld’s attention.”

“It was a gamble.” Lord Baelish said. “I suppose they needed to find excitement in life.”

Sansa knitted her brow.

“It looks like the kind of entertainment that ends badly."

“Yes,” Lord Baelish chuckled. “But they weren't completely reckless. One doesn't gamble if they think they don't have a chance of winning.” The way he said it made Sansa think that he was speaking from experience. “It was a masquerade party,” he continued. “Every guest wore a costume and baroque masks with intricate designs that covered their whole faces. This way, if the King of the Underworld showed up, he would be unable to kiss any women.”

“Do you think the king wouldn't have tried to take off their masks?" she asked.

"I don't know." He said in an amused tone. "Maybe he thought it was more interesting this way; an incentive to master the art of seduction. His victory would be more laudable if it was the woman who took off her mask willingly."

"Perhaps," Sansa replied. It depended on how desperate the king was, she thought. Definitely it was a dangerous game, one she didn't want to play. She looked at Lord Baelish, and his smirk told her that he was up to no good. “You aren't going to suggest having a masquerade party on the Night of the Old Gate, are you?”

“No. Though it's tempting.” He offered her his hand, flashing her a mischievous smile.

Sansa took it. Surely he was joking, wasn't he? There was nothing tempting in drawing the supernatural in.

“Have you ever danced a waltz, Sansa?” Lord Baelish asked, oblivious of her thoughts.

Sansa blinked.

“Only at home," she answered. "My father hired a dance teacher for Arya and I.” She smiled, remembering Arya’s complaints. Her sister had tried to convince their father to hire a sword instructor instead. "It was fun, though I don't know if I remember the dance steps."

Something flashed in Lord Baelish’s eyes. A hint of sadness mixed with something else. She felt him squeeze her hand softly.

“I’m alright,” she told him, and squeezed his hand back.

He pressed his lips to her knuckles, and Sansa was touched that he was trying to comfort her regardless.

“I'm certain that you haven't forgotten the dance steps," he said softly. His breath caressed the back of her hand. "You just need someone to help you remember. This castle is usually very quiet, and I have never given the ballroom a proper use. I could hire some musicians to play music as we practice. And in the future, we could host a party. A masquerade ball, if you like," he added in a playful tone.

Sansa laughed.

"So long as it's not on the Night of the Old Gate, Lord Baelish."

“Petyr.” He reminded her, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “I think that sounds reasonable.”

As she stared into his eyes, Sansa wondered if he actually believed in the supernatural. She remembered what Tom and Brendan had told her in the carriage. Lord Baelish had assured them that the sigil of House Harren kept the monsters of the forest at bay, but perhaps he'd just said it to reassure them.

A thought entered her mind.

“Why do you keep the door to the garden locked? Do you think the entrance is there?”

Lord Baelish looked a bit surprised by her question.

“It’s a possibility,” he said slowly. “But I haven’t witnessed any paranormal event there, if that’s what you’re wondering. When I discovered it, it was wild. No one could access the garden. I hired several gardeners to clear it, and when I finally could walk along it, I fell in love with it. Ironically, I had never thought one could fall in love with a place.” He shook his head, as if the thought still amused him. “But here I am, keeping that place to myself.”

Until now, Sansa thought. He’d asked her to keep the key.

“Were the stone statues already there?” she asked.

“Yes. They look very old. Probably as old as the castle. They’ve been hidden for so long, among weeds and undergrowth. Now the sunlight bathes them, and there are roses and an artificial lake. There’s beauty there, Sansa.” He lifted her hand as if he were about to ask her for a dance, but he remained silent, his eyes fixed on hers as if waiting for her to mull over his words.

A gentle breeze blew through their cloaks carrying the scent of the trees.

Sansa looked down at their clasped hands. She knew what he meant. Many people might consider Harrenhal a dark place with its tragic past and the rumors about ghosts, with the stone statues and the sealed tower, and the strange creatures that were said to lurk in the forest. However, there was beauty in Harrenhal if one knew where to look.

She raised her head and offered him a hopeful smile.

“If you are going to host a party in the future, I think it would be advisable to practice other dances as well.” She deliberately avoided addressing him either by his last name or name. She didn’t feel comfortable enough to call him by his name yet, and she knew that he'd correct her again if she called him Lord Baelish.

His face lit up. He looked pleasantly surprised that she’d suggested practicing other dances. Sansa had heard that the tango was becoming very popular in other countries, and wondered if Lord Baelish knew how to dance it. She’d heard that some people thought it wasn’t proper to dance it in respectable social gatherings because it involved touching the other dancer with the upper part of your body and your legs, and the dance steps were too provocative.

Blood rushed to her face. She wondered if Lord Baelish would be opposed to the idea of dancing tango with her.

“Nothing would please me more, sweetling,” he said then, startling her. 

Of course, he couldn’t read her mind; he’d just answered her previous question, but Sansa blushed harder.

Lord Baelish placed his other hand over her and stared at her intently.

Sansa thought that he was about to say something else, but after a moment, he swallowed and let go of her hand. Sansa dropped her arm. She couldn’t help but feel disappointed even though she didn’t know if he’d wanted to speak at all.

Lord Baelish smoothed his hands over his cloak before looking back at her. His mouth twitched.

“The weather is still a little cold to go back to the garden,” he said. “Would you like to see the library?”

Her disappointment vanished as soon as she heard that word. The Library. This was probably one of the rooms of the castle she was more excited to visit. She couldn’t wait to find out what books he owned. She hoped he would lend her some. She yearned for being immersed in fictional words. She daydreamed as often as she could, especially while doing chores or at night before falling asleep.

She reached for his hand and gave him a bright smile, and the hope that flickered in her chest grew stronger, but she didn't ask him if she was allowed to read other books aside from those she had to translate.  
“Nothing would please me more,” she said instead. Her tone sounded a little teasing; she wasn't sure if it had been intentional.

Amusement flashed across his face. He tilted his head, chuckling, and wrapped his hand around hers.

“Then, what are we waiting for?” he asked, the amusement still lingering in his voice.

Sansa stifled a giggle.

The castle looked different in daylight. It was almost as if there were two worlds in Harrenhal. A world full of secrets where she didn’t feel safe, and a world where everything seemed to be alright, and both worlds converged. Perhaps it was true that the Old Gate was hidden somewhere, and the magic of the Underworld bled into Harrenhal.

She wondered if there was a connection between the Old Gate and the song she’d heard last night.

She turned her head to look at Lord Baelish as they headed to the library.

He was also an enigma. He was gentle and fun, but she had the impression that he was holding back. There was something standing between them, and Sansa wanted to know what it was. She knew it wasn’t the social norms what made him behave like this, or at least not entirely. He didn’t care about social norms every time he welcomed Margaery into his home. He didn’t care what other people said. 

Now the same people who talked behind Lord Baelish’s and Margaery’s back must be spreading rumors about Sansa too. The daughter of a traitor living with an unmarried man. If they’d seen her only a few moments before, holding his hand and trying to suppress a giggle. 

They’d think that her behaviour was terribly inappropriate, that she was using too much familiarity.

There was a voice in the back of her head that said that too.

She knew the social norms she’d internalized as she grew up were useless now. Yet, she couldn’t shut them off at the stroke of a pen. There was a part of her that wished her life in Harrenhal were filled with horse rides; strolls along Harrenhal, conversations that made her feel good afterwards; laughter… and dance. Yes, she wanted to know what it was like to dance with him. To feel his arm wrapped around her waist and his body guiding hers to the rhythm of music. To stare into his eyes as they moved. She’d imagined many times what it would be like to experience that kind of closedness; it was one of the few times where one was allowed to share their personal space, though there were etiquette rules one mustn’t break.

When she lived in Winterfell, Sansa had never imagined that her first dance with a man outside of her family wouldn’t happen in a social ball, but in a remote castle. Her stomach fluttered at the thought.  
They didn’t find anyone in the corridors as they made their way to the library. They didn’t hear any sounds either, aside from their footsteps. It was as if everyone else were still asleep.

Lord Baelish stopped in front of a carved wood door. It wasn’t locked. The door didn’t creak when he opened it. The silence wasn’t unnerving. Lord Baelish held the door open for her, and Sansa saw a hint of excitement in his eyes. The room was dark; Sansa couldn’t distinguish any shapes, but she didn’t feel uneasy.

“Thank you, my lord,” she said. She told herself that calling him my lord was a safe choice for now, until she felt comfortable enough to call him Petyr. She tried to ignore the way that form of address made her feel. She didn’t want to admit, not even to herself, that there was something alluring in calling him my lord.

His lips twitched. He also seemed to like the way it sounded. If he’d noticed her conscious effort to avoid saying his name, he didn’t show it.

“My lady.” He tilted his head.

Sansa felt a tingle in her belly. She hurried to step into the room, wondering what was going on between them; wondering if perhaps they were also playing a dangerous game. She had never felt this way before. It was a little frightening, but it was also exciting. She’d only met him yesterday and she was already picturing herself dancing with him and imagining her life in Harrenhal. 

She felt him walking past her.

It wasn’t long before she heard a rustling sound. 

Light streamed into the room. Lord Baelish was beside a large window. He’d just pulled a pair of curtains apart, lighting the first storey. 

Sansa darted her eyes across the room, and her lips parted in amazement.

Never, not even in her wildest dreams, she’d have imagined such a magnificent library. It was decorated in a theatrical style, with marble columns, spiral staircases and gold busts. Her eyes traveled over the bookshelves. The library must be three storeys high, she figured, but the top of the room was still covered in semi-darkness.

Yet, in the first storey there were so many books that one would need several lives to read them all. So many stories to discover, so many places her mind could conjure up.

How could someone decide where to start?

“This is… magical,” she murmured. She turned around and her gaze fell upon Lord Baelish. “Can we explore it before you show me the books I have to translate?”

His lips curled into a smug grin. He came to her. Sansa realized that his shirt cuffs matched the gold bursts.

She looked up at his face right before he answered:

“Of course. We can spend all day here if you like.” He spread his arms in a welcoming gesture and added: “Feel free to come here whenever you want, not only when you need to work. This door will always be open for you, and you don’t need to ask for permission to pick up a book.”

Sansa did her best to suppress her excitement. Spending hours in that place sounded wonderful, and she was allowed to read any book.

She had the feeling this would become one of her favorite places in the castle.

“Thank you," she said. He had no idea how much this meant to her.

Lord Baelish shook his head.

“No need to thank me, sweetling. In fact you’re doing me a favor. Books deteriorate faster if no one opens them.” He winked at her and motioned to one of the staircases. “Would you like to start the tour with the highest shelves, _my lady_?” His mouth twitched after saying those two words.

Sansa took his hand and nodded, trying to ignore the way her heart had pounded in her chest when he’d winked at her.


	2. Chapter 2

By the time they reached the top of the room, Lord Baelish had pulled all the curtains apart. Sansa had managed to read some titles of the books on her way to the third storey. There seemed to be books on every subject, and some of the titles were very evocative: 

_The magic properties of stones and their connection to the stars_. 

_The Tradition of Courtly Love and Its Impact on Human Relationships_.

There were also titles in Latin:

 _Herbarium. De Mandragorae et alii_.

 _Speculum Principis_. 

Sansa wondered if Lord Baelish knew Latin, and if he did, if he’d read those books. She knew that Speculum Principis, or Mirror of Princes had been a genre of advice literature for rulers very popular in the Middle Ages. 

As for the mandrake, there had been several legends about it in the Middle Ages. It was believed that it could cure many types of illnesses, but there had been also rumors that witches used it. In truth, the mandrake could be deadly because it was poisonous. 

When they reached the third storey, Sansa looked up at the ceiling roof frescoes. They depicted climbing plants and flowers and birds. 

Lord Baelish stood beside her. She knew he was waiting for her opinion now that she could see the whole room.

She turned to him, smiling.

“I feel like I’m in an enchanted forest,” she said.

He looked a bit surprised by her statement but his eyes lit up. He chuckled. 

“That’s an original way to say that you like it, sweetling.”

Sansa giggled.

They walked over to a table by the window.

One of the books on the nearest shelf caught her attention.

_Beyond the Wall: An exploration of the myths since the Ancient Times._

She paused. She didn’t know if someone had ever gone beyond the Wall. There were legends about humanoid creatures who could ensnare your senses and take over your mind. Creatures that had been in the continent before The Age of Heroes. Some legends affirmed they’d been created by the Children of the Forests, mythical creatures as well.

When she was a child, those legends had frightened her. But as she grew up, her curiosity was piqued. Were the Children of the Forest and the White Walkers real? It seemed like the only way to find out was to go beyond the Wall. 

Lord Baelish followed the direction of her gaze. He read the title aloud and titled his head, studying her expression.

“Are you interested in the lands beyond the Wall, Sansa?”

“Yes,” she admitted. “Old Nan told us stories when my siblings and I were children. It’s strange,” she added. “There were several important expeditions across the world over the past century, but none beyond the Wall.”

Lord Baelish picked up the book. It looked quite new. His fingers trailed over the title, an enigmatic smile on his face.

“Well, maybe there have been expeditions, but they haven’t been made public yet,” he said.

Sansa hadn’t considered that possibility.

“Anyway,” he said, handing the book to her. “This is an interesting reading, even though no one has confirmed whether the information is true.” His smile widened. “I think you might like it. It’s like an adventure novel, in a sense.”

Sansa took the book from his hands and tried to picture the Wall. She could almost feel the cold of the Far North hear distant howls from the other side.

“The old and rare books shouldn’t leave this room,” Lord Baelish went on. “They need to be handled with special care, but this one was published only a few years ago and there are many copies available in bookstores and public libraries, so you can carry it to your room, if you like.” 

“Thank you.” Sansa smiled at him before looking down at the book cover. She hoped she’d learn more about those strange creatures from beyond the Wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made up the titles of the books, but _The magic properties of stones and their connection to the starts_ is a nod to _Lapidario_ by Alfonso X The Wise.

**Author's Note:**

> The Library is inspired by Admont Abbey, a benedictine monastery in Austria.
> 
> I made up the legend of The Old Gate.


End file.
